Pretty could not begin to describe her. Her golden halo framed a face that held a unique beauty. A few freckles danced across her nose, her lips pink and fiery. Her eyes, however, were what claimed and held his attention.
They sparkled with a life force all their own.
Even so, whatever interest might gather died with the stench of uncertainty that clung to her. Aye, she smelled of entanglements he didn’t need or want. A puzzle he had no desire to solve.
He wanted her gone. Right after he turned any uncertainty to certainty. If she was a spy... Which reminded him. “What happened with Rollings?”
“Still not talking much.”
Damn it. “What’s your judgment on his involvement with the shipment loss?”
“Not involved.”
“This isn’t good.” Maxen didn’t question his brother. Drake had his ways to pull the truth from people. All his brothers had. Drake, however, had never failed before. Frustration slashed at him.
Another bloody mystery.
Nothing ever slipped passed him, yet in the span of twenty-four-hours, two mysteries had landed on his doorstep. “Who else would know about our shipment? Our routes? Our damn timelines?”
“No one.” Drake rubbed his temples. “Except perhaps the ring of women dabbling on our margins that the Duke of Mortimer took down. But unlikely.”
And yet nothing ever stayed down forever. Just look at the Furysthemselves. No matter what life dealt them, they always rose back up. “He cut off the head, but we both know another one will soon appear. Perhaps it already has.”
“We’ve filled the vacancy thoroughly,” Drake reminded him.
“That doesn’t mean someone else won’t try.” In the gutters, survival favored the strong. And he’d spend his whole life strengthening his family, their connections, and their place in the world. There was little that could topple them, but that didn’t mean there wasnothing. And it was his job as the head of the brood to eliminate those things. “And there is the duke himself.”
“You believe Mortimer and his men could be behind this?”
“We have history.”
Drake snorted. “We were never his aim.”
“Doesn’t mean we won’t become it.”
“And we’ll know the moment we do, but this isn’t his style.”
“True.” He supposed.
“Andher?” Drake motioned to the candle shop. “It could just be a coincidence she appeared here.”
“Maybe.” He hoped for Miss Turner’s sake that was all it was, or he would have to dispose of her the only way he knew how. He’d rather not tread that path, not unless he was left no choice.
“Wait—over yonder. Isn’t that . . .?”
Maxen’s brows furrowed as his gaze fell on a tall man striding up the street and entering her shop. An egotistical posture he knew all too well.
Well, well, well.
Promises were only as good as the people who made them.
As were their words.
And every single one of hers just became more suspicious.
Chapter Three
Her handsome-as-sin landlordwas a criminal.
